


i sang a hymn to bring me peace- & then it came (a melody)

by tiny_tuba



Category: Cloud Atlas (2012), Cloud Atlas - All Media Types, Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, First Meetings, Fluff, Hogwarts Professors, Holding Hands, I have never seen the movie or read the book but i love the characters???, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Misunderstandings, barely contains a plot, mostly just these to babies pouting and smooching tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_tuba/pseuds/tiny_tuba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title is from Marina & the Diamonds' "Happy". as in "happy" birthday to my boyfriend gabe! (@keptin)</p>
    </blockquote>





	i sang a hymn to bring me peace- & then it came (a melody)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keptin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptin/gifts).



> title is from Marina & the Diamonds' "Happy". as in "happy" birthday to my boyfriend gabe! (@keptin)

     School had been absolute shit for Robert Frobisher. How he ended up as a music teacher at his own alma mater, he had no idea. He hated the dead eyes of his students. He hated the lack of funding the music department got. He hated having to hold a fat and slimy toad during concerts.  He especially hated faculty ‘parties’. The charms teacher always managed to get drunk and tell horrible jokes, the headmaster was downright rude, and Frobisher never had anyone to talk to.

     Resigned to another uncomfortable situation, Robert was rolling his eyes at a colleague struggle to finish a joke (something about a tourist in Scotland) when he saw him. He was vaguely aware that he was the astronomy professor, hastily hired after the last had toppled off the tower in some sort of accident. He carried himself with a confidence that belied his newness, to the point that he clapped the charms teacher on the back and continued to joke for him.

     The charms teacher wiped at his eyes, “Oh thank god, Rufus. I can’t finish it.”

Rufus smiled broadly and began gesticulating strongly.

The first words he heard Rufus speak were:

     “I built that pier with my own two hands! But do they call me ‘McGregor the pier-builder’? No! _But you fuck one goat_ -”

Robert nearly choked on his butterbeer. It was a stunning first impression, and he fell in love instantly.

     Rufus Sixsmith was the new astronomy professor. There was also an opening for defense against the dark arts, but many dark rumors swirled around that job. He had initially scoffed at the idea of a position being cursed, but hearing stories of predecessors had been unnerving. Even though he knew his job offered more stability (less chance of being murdered) a shot of firewhiskey had been needed before he was ready to attend the start of term party. He only knew the charms teacher, who wasn’t the best company. He supposed it was better than being alone- parties made him nervous. His hand hesitated over the bottle of liquor. What the hell. Another glass and he’d be fun.

     He tried mingling, smiling with confidence he wasn’t sure he really had. He could do this. It’s just a party, soon he’d actually be teaching. He just has to get through this first. Rufus watched the charms professor struggle to finish a joke they had both heard earlier. It was pretty funny, and required an obnoxious Scottish accent. But the professor was choking on his own laughter too much to get any words out. Rufus good-naturedly slapped him on the back, tapping him out. He could do this.

A deep, steadying, breath.

     “-Do they call me McGregor the pier-builder? No! _But you fuck one goat_ -”

Amid the chuckles, a loud burst of snorting laughter frothed out of the professor in the corner, startling Sixsmith. The man turned pink, and held himself like he was trying to contain his laughter. He was shaking & making little giggles, and Rufus Sixsmith fell in love.

     He dazedly wandered to him.

     “Hullo, I’m Rufus Sixsmith. I’m the new astronomy professor.” He hurriedly wiped his sweaty palm along his trousers before extending his hand. Oh god. There was an errant curl of hair that swooped across his forehead. It was perfect.

     “I’m the music professor, Robert Frobisher. Nice to meet you.” He very nearly sang the words.

     Robert was still smiling, and gripped Rufus’ hand firmly. The cool confidence he had seen earlier was gone, replaced by an eagerness. His larger frame curled into his space like a parenthesis, and Robert smiled again at the awkwardness of his posture.

     Robert grasped his hand. Rufus was absolutely beaming at him, his emotions plain and honest on his face. He could feel his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    Sixsmith made a garbled half attempt at some sort of pleasantries before resigning to just sort of helplessly staring at Frobisher. He was dimly aware that a ghost wandered through him.

     With a start, Frobisher realized that he had been staring. He tried to clear his throat, adjust his glasses, anything to buy some time in an attempt to regain his composure- but his long fingers were still very much entwined with Sixsmith’s. It took Sixsmith a beat to realize that Frobisher was trying to reclaim his hand and he was embarrassed to determine that a friendly handshake had turned into him clasping Frobisher’s hand in both of his.

     Rufus’ spine straightened immediately and felt a flush creep onto his face. He snatched his hands back as though he’d been burned. Of course, of course. He’d barely just met Frobisher, why did he feel the need to act so familiar with him? So intimate? He’d been told before that he was too tactile, but he never seemed to learn. This was a work situation after all.

     At the sudden retraction, Robert felt something cold and slimy work its way up his chest. He did not accept rejection well. He felt a sneer twist his features.

     “Well. Goodbye.” He could’ve come up with a more scathing remark, but he felt majorly slighted by the tall blond man. He added a little aristocratic sniff as he left. There. That’ll teach him.

 

Rufus visibly deflated as he watched Robert sashay away. He then visibly jumped when Robert tripped over his own robes and dove headfirst down a stairway. Sixsmith dashed over to him as the rest of the faculty ignored what they assumed to be another tantrum.

 

     Frobisher was about halfway down the stairs, sprawled spread-eagle on his back and pouting vehemently. How dare Sixsmith play with his emotions like this? First he held his hand, then he pulled away, then he carried him bridal style to the hospital wing? Frobisher was not a fan of these mixed messages. It was harder to understand since the pain started to make him woozy.

     He heard Sixsmith explain that he had broken his ankle, and that he needed medical attention. God, people thought _he_ was dramatic. Sixsmith sounded close to tears.

     Then the nurse handed him a sickly sweet smelling potion and everything went black.

Sixsmith dozed fitfully in the chair next to the hospital bed, waiting for Frobisher to wake up. Mending broken bones was easy, but the nurse had given him something “to calm him down”. Apparently he was a regular here.

     He felt guilty. If he hadn’t let his emotions get the better of himself, he wouldn’t’ve held hands with Frobisher (a co-worker!), and then he wouldn’t have gotten offended and ran away and broke his ankle. Rufus slumped over, forehead resting on the crisp bedcovers. He had messed up bad, and it wasn’t even the first day of classes yet. Once Frobisher woke up, he was going to apologize profusely and then leave him alone forever. It was very tragic.

     Frobisher woke up sometime after, eyes blinking in the starlight. The enchanted ceiling showed the late summer constellations, meaning that quite a few hours had passed. He lazily clenched his fist and was mildly surprised to find it knotted in warm cloth. He sat up and realized that his hand was tangled in Sixsmith’s hair, as Sixsmith had fallen asleep nuzzling his arm. The softly twinkling light cast delicate shadows from his eyelashes onto his cheeks, and Frobisher couldn’t resist tracing them lightly with the tip of his finger.

     Sixsmith woke up slowly, almost gently- his eyes fluttered like moths drunk on sunlight. He smiled lazily up at Frobisher, who smiled back. They both felt a warmth in their chests as they grinned dopily at each other until Sixsmith remembered why they were there. _Inappropriate handholding that resulted in bodily harm._

     Rufus sat up, his spine ramrod straight. His eyes were wide and the color had drained from his face. He began stammering out apologies, confusing Frobisher.

     “I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable- it was never my intent to be so, well. I am truly sorry, this is all my fault, I will try to keep some distance between us so I don’t- I mean I won’t, just I want to make sure you feel safe, a safe work environment?”

     “Rufus, what the hell are you talking about?”

‘Bwueh’ is not a word, but Frobisher guessed that coming from Sixsmith it conveyed a message of “I’m confused that you’re confused”.

They both stared for a moment, before Sixsmith tried to explain. Haltingly, he explained what he did wrong because having a crush on a coworker isn't appropriate and how sorry he was. Frobisher furrowed his brow before laughing abruptly, cutting off Sixsmith.

     “Is that what you thought? Rufus, you- you- _you lampshade_! I was holding your hand because I _wanted_ to! _I like you!_ ” To emphasize his point, Robert whomped him with a pillow a few times. And then a few times more, because Sixsmith had begun to laugh. He liked making him laugh.

They took a few moments to catch their breath. Knowing that Frobisher wasn’t angry with him was a huge weight off of his shoulders. Knowing that Frobisher liked him was stunning. He felt bold.

     “Can we hold hands again?” his voice was soft. Just asking was bold for Sixsmith. It would take almost six months before he could muster up the courage to ask if he could spend the night with Frobisher, and then four years before he would propose.

But that night, he asked only to hold hands.

Frobisher smiled fondly, and curled the long fingers of his left hand around Sixsmith’s. The other hand came to rest on his cheek, warm with a content flush. Sixsmith leaned into his palm, and Frobisher could feel his heart melting.

    “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to kiss you.” Frobisher felt bold as well.

Sixsmith stifled a small squeak and glanced around at their unromantic surroundings.

   “Here? In the hospital wing?”

Frobisher leaned close, his deepset eyes a pale blue in the half-light. He pointedly glanced at the enchanted ceiling.

    “Here, under the stars.”

Slowly, carefully, their lips met for the briefest of eternities.

When they pulled apart, Sixsmith felt as though he was walking amongst the clouds. Robert absentmindedly flicked his tongue over his lips. He gave Sixsmith’s hand a little squeeze.

     “Well?”

Sixsmith took a shaky breath, his eyes unfocused and his smile broad.

     “Is this possible? I just met you, and yet...” he shrugged, bashful.

     “I feel like something important has happened to me.” Robert agreed, leaning in for another kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Full joke:  
> A man is travelling the highlands of Scotland. He stops at a bar, where an old man is nursing a pint. The old man points out the window. "You see that wall? I built that wall with me bare hands. Picked each stone and placed it just so. But do they call me McGregor the stone wall builder? No." He points to the bar. "You see that bar? I built that bar, put more love into it than me own child. Sanded and stained the wood meself. But do they call me McGregor the bar builder? No." He pointed again out the window. "You see that pier? I drove the posts into the surf through the wind and tide. Nailed every plank by meself. But do they call me McGregor the pier builder? No!
> 
>  
> 
> But you fuck ONE GOAT-"


End file.
